


Apollo and the Ragdoll

by Oreste_et_Pylade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras is an angel, I don't know why I wrote this, I still don't understand tags, It's a completely crazy idea but I hope you enjoy, M/M, Merry Christmas, R is so cynical because he has been thrown out so many times, They're all toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreste_et_Pylade/pseuds/Oreste_et_Pylade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toy Story AU in which Grantaire is a toy that keeps getting thrown out and Enjolras is the angel on top of the Christmas tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apollo and the Ragdoll

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what inspired me to write this and I don't know why I even want to write it but oh well. Maybe if you're as crazy as me you'll enjoy it. Merry Christmas!

Decorating the Christmas tree was always an important part of the celebrations for the family. It was even more so for the group of toys that lived with them, although their contributions were always secret. Most of them hid around the living room and silently marvelled at the proceedings. However, every Christmas Eve, their leader was fished out of the box which he lived in all year - according to the family, at least - and placed on the very top of the tree. He was an angel and his name was Enjolras.  
Usually the atmosphere was cheerful, but this year even the humans could feel some tension in the air. Less than a month before, there had been a new arrival. It was a rag doll, exactly the same type as the rest of them - but there was something different about this one.  
It was not as light-hearted and resilient as the other toys. The fabric was ripped in many places and most of the original stuffing had perished. The rims of its clothes were singed, and the left arm was dangling by a few seams. Its name was Grantaire.  
Something about this doll made the others feel uncomfortable. Their usually kind and selfless natures gave way to fear and suspicion. Instead of helping, as each of them would have done without a thought, they stayed away. They cowered in corners and never made eye contact. Except their leader, of course. Enjolras rushed to help barely after Grantaire's feet had touched the ground. He spoke to him and treated him as kindly as he treated all the others. He soon dragged a sewing kit through the ventilation system and started repairing the toy. He did so expertly: the stiches were hardly visible.  
All this time Grantaire said nothing. He seemed completely lifeless - apart from his eyes, which silently watched his saviour with sweetness and gentleness.   
After that, Enjolras quickly convinced the others to trust Grantaire, even to like him. Eventually they all accepted the fact that he never spoke to any of them, and the only words he would ever say were to Enjolras. He trailed behind him everywhere, but Enjolras did not seem to mind. Sometimes he smiled at Grantaire, and when he did Grantaire's face would show inexpressible joy.   
This was until the first meeting he attended. He sat by Enjolras - usually Combeferre would sit there, but when he took one look at the way Grantaire treated Enjolras, he knew, and offered him his seat.  
Their group, as Grantaire soon found out, was called Les Amis de l'ABC. Its purpose was to help toys around the world find a home. Enjolras, as the leader, stood up and started speaking of how every toy deserves to be in a home as loving as the one they were in.  
Grantaire made a sound of disbelief.  
Everybody stared at him.  
No one had ever interrupted Enjolras before. No one had ever ridiculed his ideals. No one knew what to say.  
Grantaire cleared his throat and spoke.  
'Do you really believe that? Do you believe it's possible to help every toy? Moreover, about your idea of help: after a few years, the toys would get thrown out. In a few years, we will get thrown out. You don't believe me? I know. It's happened to me many times. The same story unfolds time and time again. Your child gets older, plays with you less, until you are entirely forgotten and they either leave you to rot or throw you away. It's an endless cycle and there's no way to escape. Sometimes I wish we were able to die.'  
Without any warning Grantaire jumped out of the window. Everyone broke out of their stupor and ran to the windowsill. They leaned over the edge just in time to see him crumpled up on the ground before he slid through a grate and dropped into a drain.   
'I have to help him,' Enjolras said, swinging himself over the ledge until he was just edging along with his hands.  
'I'll come with you,' seven voices said in unison.  
'No, stay here. What if Charlie comes home and finds no toys to play with? I'm the only one who won't be missed - I'm a Christmas decoration.'  
'That does make sense,' Combeferre, always logical, replied.  
'But what if you hurt yourself when you hit the ground?' Joly was concerned.  
'Don't worry about me. Grantaire's right about one thing: we can't die. We're too light and soft to be hurt.' With that Enjolras slipped down the drainpipe onto the ground below. He took his halo off to fit through the grate and threw it to Feuilly like a Frisbee.  
'Take care of it for me,' he called and dived into the water.  
He was a better swimmer than Grantaire, and quickly caught up with him.  
'Grantaire, come back!'  
Of course Grantaire could not refuse. He turned around, but waited for Enjolras to come up to him.  
'Why?'  
'Because... Because you're our friend'.  
'Really? And how does that work exactly? You all speak about how you can help everyone and make the world a better place? What about me? Do I sit there quietly, forced to listen to things I don't believe in? How does that make me a member of your group? If I speak my mind I obviously won't be welcome.'  
'Grantaire, did you notice that the only one who cast you out was yourself? No one said anything.'  
'You didn't have to. I saw that disdainful look in your eyes. And quite right, too. Why should you, the believer, bother yourself with a cynic like me? Maybe you think you can help me? Am I another of your causes?'  
'No! I want you to come back because I like you. We all do.'  
'I don't believe you.' Grantaire spat these words out with venom and ran off, and was already fading into the distance by the time Enjolras got up.  
At that moment, Enjolras felt as if he had suffered a great loss. He was furious at himself, for reasons he did not understand. However, his anger was directed at the receding figure.  
'You don't believe in anything!' He shouted, his voice resonating through the tunnel.  
He could have sworn he heard a fading echo of a whispered "I believe in you".  
He made his way back, trying not to think about what would happen to Grantaire. Before that encounter he would never have thought him to be so self-deprecating.   
To get back into the house, he had to wait until the door was opened. This happened when a gigantic Christmas tree was hoisted in. He clung on to the base of it until it was turned to enter the living room, allowing him to drop off the end to the nearest stair. He ran upstairs, dreading to be the bearer of bad news. Still, there would be a few days in between decorating the tree and putting the angel on top. Perhaps they would be able to regain some Christmas spirit in that time. He very much doubted it.  
* * *  
It was time for Enjolras to be used as an ornament. He crept downstairs a few minutes before the others and crawled into the shoebox he was meant to be in. He was glad to be in there - it was cosy and safe, while the whole time he was on his way there, he had a disconcerting feeling of being watched.  
A moment later Charlie ran into the room with his father, pestering him to let him put the angel on. His father refused, like every year, because the tree was indeed very tall, and so was the ladder.  
He picked the angel up and climbed up the ladder. When he finally reached the top, he stretched the arm holding Enjolras out to put him on the tip.  
Just before he did, he pricked himself on a particularly sharp needle and let go of Enjolras.  
It was a great distance to fall, but he had fallen from higher points. He would have gone completely unscathed, were it not for the candles below him. And the candles were lit. With fire.  
He was aiming straight for one. He could almost feel the heat from it, amidst the sinking feeling of falling.  
Just as he prepared for the impact, he felt another body slam into his, pushing him out of the way. Instead, he landed on a plate with a thud.  
The first thing he saw was Grantaire. Grantaire, who was now furiously stomping on his jacket to extinguish the fire as the realisation hit Enjolras.  
He got up and enveloped him in a hug.  
'I missed you so much,' he whispered with a voice shaken from sobs.  
'So did I. That's why I came back.'  
'Just promise never to leave again.'  
'I promise. I could never leave you.' He put his hands on Enjolras' shoulders and gently pushed him away just enough to look in his eyes.  
'Enjolras, I believe in you and I love you, and I know that if anyone can make me believe in the rest of the world it's you'.  
'I believe in you too,' he whispered, embracing him in his arms once more. 'And I always will'.


End file.
